All posts for the month April, 2013

I had been spending a lot of time on Houzz, a social network centered around home design, interior design, and landscape design. It’s complex, but somewhat comparable to Pinterest (if Pinterest allowed people to organize their selected pics into blog posts).

Mostly I was on there because it was more fun than reading textbooks and because I crave visual inspiration, and it was definitely time to get some stuff around my house figured out.

I’ve always hated a lot about my kitchen. But I won’t bore you with my gripes about it… With the discovery that there were leaks around my sink, I figured it was clear that the place to start was with a new sink. Lucky for me, one of my best friends is a plumber and is on a “Will work for a homemade dinner” status with me.

Due to my excessive amount of visual consumption on Houzz, I had discovered I wanted an apron-front (AKA farm-house style) sink.

Exhibit A:

A place to relax, wash veggies from the garden, and be all things domestic goddess.Image from this blog.

Clearly, this was the sink for me. Perfect for washing all those veggies I was going to grow in my garden. (Hope springs eternal. I suck at gardening.)

So after I did a bunch of research about how to care for a copper sink and this and that and I had one all picked out, I started to think about the movement to keep copper mining out of northern MN. As you can probably guess, I’m opposed to hazardous mining in the Boundary Waters, anywhere near them, or anywhere near me and my loved ones in general.

I’m also opposed to them anywhere, which means I really can’t buy copper from…well, anywhere? (Curses in head loudly.)

Plus, if I were OK with allowing the pollution to happen elsewhere (again, I’m totally not, but just for conversation’s sake), then I’d likely be purchasing a sink ‘made’ in China. There is a concern about copper from China having lead mixed in to reduce cost/price. I’m definitely not cool with washing my food and dishes in lead-water.

In keeping with the themes of ‘used adds character,’ ‘distressed is beautiful,’ and ‘farmhouse-chic,’ I managed to find a perfect sink, for free.

My new sink was second-hand, so there were no problems from toxic mining methods. Does it get more eco-friendly than that?

My new sink was aged and distressed, with character that only comes with age.

My new sink was a perfect fit for the hole in my countertop, which meant I didn’t have to go buy a new counter, either.

You may have already guessed it, but I kept the sink I already had.

The leak was actually from the faucet (which plumber-friend explained was indeed beyond repair and I needed a new one). The other area causing a leak was a small gap between the counter and the wall which just needed repairing.

So I got a new faucet (so I guess it wasn’t totally free, but I would have needed a new faucet even if I bought a brand-new sink). No more leaking, plus it totally changed the mood in my kitchen.

I now look at my kind of ugly sink and counter with pride instead of loathing because I chose to have them there. They are also now a symbol to me of a truly conscious style of consumerism – going beyond green-washed products that are really the same old form of “Buy buy buy” and getting back to the mentality of the people who originally owned those old, beautiful farmhouse-style sinks:

Note: I want to clearly state that this the choice that was right for me and my family. I know that other people will come to decisions in ways that are right for their family. I changed my choice of hammered copper sink to one that goes to a store instead of to someone else’s blog because I wouldn’t want anyone to think I am judging the other person’s decision to buy one.

I’ve realized my right foot has some sort of bad juju toward footwear.

I understand why the right heel of all my sexy shoes is salt-stained and scuffed – from driving. I keep thinking I should wear sneakers when I drive to events and change into my heels when I arrive, but I always forget.

However, what I don’t understand is this:

Flightless owl slipper.

Does my right foot harness dark powers of footwear destruction?

My right foot appears to have some serious issues. The boots I could explain away. After all, I kick stuff with my right foot – think ice chunks and the sludge under my tire wheels.

But a slipper? Trust me, I do not kick ice chunks with my slipper.

In all seriousness, I plan to fix these instead of throwing out my otherwise perfectly fine boots. I think some straightforward stitching should do it, but I’m a bit nervous that all I’ll accomplish is poking myself with a needle too many times to admit and it will still allow water and snow into my boot like a sieve.

How does this even happen to only one boot?

Anyone try something like this? If I line the repaired seam with E-6000, will that work, or just break down in the salt and water/snow?

I had driven up the North Shore of Lake Superior on Sunday, and back down on Monday. I got some pics, including this one at a rest stop:

Split Rock River rest area / pull off on Lake Superior.

I drove down to the Twin Cities metro area for class, and I was incredibly excited. I had secured a brief gig line editing for someone and writing/designing a web site for a small business – two separate, paying, jobs!

After class I got the news: my grandfather had succumbed to cancer after a five-year fight.

I was no longer excited.

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I don’t want to focus on my grandpa’s story, though. It’s too new for me to write about here. I know that five years is a long time to prepare oneself, but it was still a shock to receive the actual news.

Last week was a whole lot of phone calls, texts, and trying to coordinate people, schedules, etc. Wednesday night was the wake and visitation, and the funeral was Thursday. My grandfather was Catholic and active in his parish, so in a way it’s pretty cool that his funeral mass was during Holy Week. Personally, I didn’t receive much comfort or closure from the religious proceedings, but I did really appreciate the church basement luncheon after the interment.

I made sure to spend a bit of time thanking the church ladies for their work making so much food for us. Nothing was store-bought. Everything was made by those ladies, including a rainbow-colored panoply of Jell-O salads and two different kinds of potato salad (total aside: my understanding is that this type of food is distinctly Midwestern, as is the church basement luncheon. It may not be haute cuisine, but it was comforting at a time when we sought comfort, and was a labor of love).

As important as the rituals of burial and the comforts of community and family, I was glad to go home and approach grief in my own way.

Turns out it’s spring cleaning.

I spent Friday cleaning, cleaning, and cleaning. It was one of the first days up here I could open all of the windows for the first time in months, and I got outside and chipped away at the ice build-up, I wiped things down, I gave away a set of china I don’t use anymore which freed space for my fabric stash, and so on.

Outside, I found a powerful reminder of spring and renewal: grass shoots in the cold mud.

The first grass shoots of spring – at least in my yard.

I also found the iris has decided to come up, as well as a lovely little Box Elder Bug sunning itself.

Grandpa was a tidy person, and I know he would have appreciated my effort to make my home a better place for me, my children, and my guests. Cleaning felt very appropriate, and I knew I wasn’t going to be able to concentrate on any real homework. My focus was pretty shallow. I stayed home from a party that night and stayed home from school the next morning. Boyfriend treated me to breakfast out at an Ecuadoran restaurant in town and then it was home for more cleaning, then off to an early Easter celebration. By the end of all of that, I was too exhausted to be sad anymore. I know it was also due to the cathartic nature of a good house-cleaning spree.

With some more time, my creative spirit will return. I hope it’s soon.